"you have your own life to lead. you are sorry, but you simply cannot see giving up so much of your life to the sustaining of his."

and you look down where your foot was and there's nothing.
maybe jello is the magic number - the entry fee - the motherfucking overflowing tub.
green jello, i believe.
something to hold on to. or not, really.
HA. so perfect.
why not raw egg? wouldn't that have been as good?
you win. you've always won.
and i wander the woods, snapping branches in my open eyes, orphaned pieces of me dragged backwards by pricker-ed claws, looking for you again.
it's probably not the jello, right? it's probably just you. but then it's always been you.
if i could just sort you out everything would be alright
where's my heroin?

tomorrow, we fish.